A Swing in the Park

3. Pigeons

I saw the old lady sit on a bench, holding her bag with bread bits on her lap. The bold pigeons sat at her feet waiting to be fed and the shy ones stayed back, anxiously turning on their feet.

One pigeon, the boldest, sat beside her on the bench and ate from her hand. The old lady was careful to feed them all, dropping pieces by her feet and throwing others out further.

People walked by and it scared the pigeons and they flew away. But after they had passed by they returned to their positions.

"Hi, Patricia," I said, coming toward her.

"Hi, Katie," she smiled. "Sit beside me for a spell." I sat down beside her and the bold pigeon came to sit near me and pecked at my knee. It did not hurt but it tickled.

"I see your parents over there," she smiled, straightening her hat. It had blue and white streamers on it.

"That's my mother and Fred," I said. "He's not my father."

"You're right," she said. "I'd forgotten. Do you know why the birds come to me?"

"Sure," I said. "They know you have bread for them."

"No," she said, "they know I'll listen to their stories. Each has its own story to tell, just like we do. And just like us, they need someone to listen."

"The pigeon pecking me was a general," I smiled, "in the Great War with the terrible crows."

"How do you know that?" She said.

"He told me," I said. "He told me other things too."

"You're a strange girl," she said, "to tell me that."

"You said you wanted to hear their stories," I said. "Well, don't you?"

"But that's not what I meant, dear," she said. "I meant I make them up, I pretend they're talking to me. I know full well they're not. I've seen a lot of things in my long life and talking pigeons isn't one of them."

"I know a place," I said, "where they all gather and tell each other where they've been on their flights through the city. They hold conference there."

"Do you know what conference is?" She smiled.

"A place where important decisions are made," I said, "and plans discussed."

"Where is this place?" She asked. "Is it far?"

"No," I said. "The pigeons will take us there. I will ask them."

I stood up from the bench and gathered them all into a circle. They stood tightly shoulder to shoulder, watching me and Patricia with their orange eyes.

"Come, Patricia," I said, stepping into the circle.

She got up slowly, straightened her hat and stood beside me.

"Take my hand, and don't let go," I said, and then we lifted off the ground and flew over the city.

"Oh my," Patricia said, squeezing my hand and holding on to her hat. "There's the old folks home! And there's the zoo! And there's St. John's where I go to mass, except I skipped this Sunday on account of the spoiled cream in the rice pudding. And there's the local library, I still have a book of theirs. Oh my, this is quite thrilling!"

We landed on the roof of the large municipal building. We were surrounded by a sea of slated roofs of all different heights, like a gray landscape of hills and valleys. Here and there were chimneys and some were spouting white smoke into the sky.

Then the sky overhead darkened and an enormous flock of pigeons appeared and set down, adding to the circle around us. Soon the roof we stood on was full and they began setting down on the other roofs around us. Their bodies were a sea of white and gray feathers.